Falling sands, shifting emotions
rushing down life's hourglass
in one swift linear motion
as time makes it's trespass.

Grain by grain
throwing it all away,
smothering us all in pain,
making hope the prey..

Shifting sands, falling emotions.
Strength in my hand,
closing hearts on command.
Empty glass, fragile devotions.

Day by day,
waiting through time in vain,
riding sand to the fray,
battling hidden clouds of rain.

Wasting sands, eroding emotions,
rushing to where it all began.
Tumbling in slow motion,
seeing them falling,
sliding into the perfect plan.

Turn the hour around,
grain by grain,
day by day,
it starts all over again..

I stood on the hands of time.
I felt the movement, but ignored the signs.
I couldn't see the minutes pass,
Like a sundial in overcast.
He turned the hourglass upside down.
And placed it next to an infant's nightgown.
The sand flows from its very first breath,
And won't stop till it has nothing left.
Was it on our side?
Did it bend or break?
We're left with memories from the moments that it takes.
I'm always stopped at a crossroads,
But time keeps running, still.
It never stops. It never will.

She thought she had it all
everything she needed
tried keeping it all to herself
tightly in her hands
but she didn't notice it slipping from her grasp.
and darling, don't you know,
you can't hold onto slippery soap

then
oppurtunies missed
friends lost
through her fingers
slowly but surely
turned to an hourglass
grains of
s
   a
n
     d
falling aimlessly
unnecessarily
to the ground

Buddha was the broken hourglass
that spilled seconds across my backyard.
Mother Earth scolded him for his slipup,
so I smoothed her over with my minute hands.
She told me that he who skips an interval
needs to double back his ticks
so, grain by grain, tick by tock.
She rewound my hands to round out
the stonewashed garden that was being fabricated.
So I steadily swept shards of seconds
under the rugged rug of ill will.
I riddled ripples within her granular skin,
skidded stones across her carved clock
face fitting ****** features together like cogs.
Buddha shook the soil off
and fixed his gaze on my clockwork.
He explained that patience is key
if one wants to harvest his feast.
Before the goods go about,
pivots and rivets need to tie together.
Mother Earth collected her thoughts
and agreed with his concept.
I finished my work, stepped back,
admiring the hourglass I rebuilt.

I have felt the heat of a thousand flames,
And witnessed the shattering of all of my hearts,
Every word that escaped my mouth,
Couldn't have been as blessed as your name.

I have swum in a thousand lakes,
And I've drowned in each one,
with every breath a synapse of obliteration,
And every heave of my soul the collaboration of all your suns.

All my feathers lie in abysmal reticence,
In reaches of an hour glass filled with ashes,
Where every ash is the increment,
Of promised prayers of retribution.

There aren't many things I know forsure,
For the world fades unto oblivion with every breath it takes,
There couldn't have been anything more obscene,
Then the innocense of your allure.

But what I do know in bits and pieces,
with closed eyes and whispered hope,
Is that there lies a certain virtue,
In the reaches of being a prisoner of the exhuberance of your soul...

I am trapped inside an hourglass
these affections are shut tight
like knots within my chest
I am waiting for the test of time to pass
and that is something only silence does best

While every grain of sand falls to rise against the air I breathe
my heart is refined by endurance
there is no sweeter alternative
than to taste the fullness of love
in the ripeness of its season